Memories lost in a hole
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: McGee gets dropped down a hole. Why, you ask? You'll have to read it to find out. I can't think of a better summary. Complete.
1. The crime

**A/N: **This is based on another dream I had. Yes, I'm weird that way. It's shorter than the last. McGee is still the main character, but the gang's all there. I tried to make it realistic, but there's only so much research I'm willing to do for fan fiction. If you see any glaring (or minor) errors, feel free to point them out. The story is finished, but I'll be posting it a couple of chapters at a time.

Disclaimer: NCIS isn't mine, nor are the main characters. If only...

**Chapter 1**

"Hey Wheeler! I think there's someone in the tunnels! Wheeler?" The man looked around. The security guard on duty was nowhere to be found. He headed back down under the building, muttering about reprisals. He rounded the corner and saw one of the entrances open and two men standing over it while a woman was on the ladder. At his approach they all turned toward him.

"James, what's going on?" Suddenly, sensing something was very wrong, he started to back away, drawing his gun. Not quickly enough.

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"Who is he?" Ziva leaned over the body.

"A soon-to-be-retired Colonel, Aaron Matheson. He was acting as a consultant on the security in the building," McGee answered, looking at his notes. "He was looking for security breaches and helping train the staff."

"What was he doing down here?" Tony wondered as he looked around the empty room. He turned to the security guard who was staring at Matheson and swallowing convulsively. "Hey." He waved his hand in front of the guard's face to get his attention. "Your name?"

"James Wheeler."

"You knew Col. Matheson?"

"He was the unofficial head of security." He laughed a little. "Said he was going to whip us all into shape."

"What would he have been doing down here?"

"I don't know. He was always conducting little surprise inspections. He said that the criminals wouldn't take the time to schedule their invasions, so neither would he. He could have been trying to find any weaknesses down here, but I wouldn't know where or what."

"Thanks," Tony said and nodded his dismissal. James left gratefully.

Gibbs said, "No sign of a weapon. McGee, any security footage?"

Tim sighed. "No. I talked to the people in security and there was a scheduled power shutdown this morning. There was some sort of glitch in the cameras and they didn't come back on. Security was doing sweeps, but except for Wheeler, the one who found the body, no one was scheduled to be down here." When Gibbs kept staring at him, he gulped a little and continued, "But I'm having them give me all the footage they have up to the shutdown. Maybe it will show something."

"Why would someone want to be down here in the first place? What's down here that's valuable?" Ziva asked, echoing Tony's earlier question.

"Power boxes? Phone lines? I don't know. Nothing valuable is stored down here. There's no sign of any illegal activity going on down here." Tim paused, a little embarrassed at what he had just said. "Besides the murder, that is." He cleared his throat and continued, "The manager said that this section is the hub for all the apartments, but that wouldn't be useful to anyone that I can think of since the building hasn't been opened yet," Tim said.

"What about the bank?"

"Separate basement. Separate systems. They'd have had to drill through the walls to get in there. Even then, it's sealed off from the vault."

"No sign of drilling here."

"Any other businesses using this space?"

"No. Each one has its own basement, separate from the others. The power, gas, fiber optics are all on separate lines for better security."

Then, Ducky arrived to examine the corpse. "Good morning, Jethro."

"It's three in the afternoon, Ducky," Tony interjected.

"Is it really?" Ducky sounded a little weary.

"Busy day?"

"Indeed. The cooling system in one of the city morgues broke down and the ME's are on strike. We're taking up the slack. I left Mr. Palmer behind." He shook his head. "But let's take a look at our colonel." He knelt down by Matheson and began examining the body. "Two shots, one to the head, one to the left shoulder. Poor man was probably dead before he hit the ground. Liver temp indicates he died quite recently, perhaps three hours ago. He doesn't appear to have been moved: the blood pool is consistent with exsanguination in this location. Cause of death seems straightforward, but I'll know more after the autopsy," Ducky finished. He set about loading Colonel Matheson onto the gurney while the team continued their examination of the crime scene.

"Where's his gun?" Ziva asked, suddenly.

"Whose gun?" Tim asked.

"Colonel Matheson's. He was a Marine. He was working in security. I would assume that he would have a gun. Where is it?"

"Ducky! Hold up!"

"What is it?"

"I need a look at the colonel before you take him."

Gibbs opened the bag and checked Matheson's body. "No gun. Ducky, be sure that his belt and holster get sent to Abby to test for fingerprints. Ziva, Tony check with security. McGee, get on the footage."

"Got it, boss."


	2. Mulling and the interruption

**Chapter 2**

"I suppose a campfire is out of the question?" Tony asked hopefully.

"Yes!" McGee and Ziva said in unison.

"It was just a thought."

"What've you got?" Gibbs asked, walking in unnoticed.

"No sign of his gun in his locker or in the break room, boss. Guys in security verified that he had it when he left on his rounds."

Ziva added, "No one broke into his locker. And no one at the building seems to have had a grudge against him."

At Gibbs' look, McGee said, "I got shots of the security guards arriving: all of them check out. After the shutdown, there's a fuzzy shot from one of the outside bank cameras of maintenance people arriving. I verified that they'd been called in by the manager. I can't resolve the images, but no one seems out of place, boss."

"Obviously, someone was."

"Maybe it was someone from the Corps. They knew where he'd be and took the opportunity," Tony suggested.

"You and Ziva check it out. McGee, go back to the building and check with bank security and then with the maintenance people. We're missing something. Find out what it is."

While the team scattered, Gibbs headed down to Abby. "You got anything, Abby?"

"I was just about to call you, Gibbs. There were no fingerprints on the colonel's holster. Whoever took his gun was wearing gloves or very careful."

"Is that all?" Gibbs asked.

"Of course not, Gibbs. The two bullets Ducky pulled from Matheson aren't from the same gun. They're both 9mm, but the striations are completely different." She pulled up the images. "See? Two different guns. Whoever killed Colonel Matheson didn't do it alone."

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"Okay, but what's this area here? I don't remember seeing it when we were down there." Tim was with the building manager, Anthony Ehrlich, looking at the blueprints. Bank security had been extremely unhelpful so he had decided to go back to Ehrlich before heading to the maintenance company. He pointed to what looked like an extra level below the crime scene.

"The basements were originally designed to go further down, into the tunnels, but the designers decided to change the layout at the last minute. Most of the steam tunnels are down there, and so maintenance still needed occasional access. They added in a concrete floor with access points scattered throughout the area." Ehrlich grimaced. "You need prybars to even get the slabs up. It's not very handy. They're only marked by three holes drilled in the center of the slabs, but they wouldn't listen to me when I complained at first. Now, they're planning on changing the layout yet again to add stairway-access to the tunnels. We'll be lucky to be finished by the end of the year at this rate."

"Are the steam tunnels blocked off like the rest of the basements?"

Ehrlich started to nod, but then stopped. He blinked and then looked more closely at the blueprints. "You know, I've never been down there myself. I don't think they are. The blueprints don't show any walls."

"So, if someone wanted to get into another part of the building, such as the bank, maybe, they'd just have to know about the tunnels?" At Ehrlich's surprised nod, he added, "I'd like to take another look at the scene, and maybe go down into the tunnels."

"Sure, but that's a two-man job. I'll get James to go down with you. He can give you any help you need." He pulled out his radio. "James! Report to my office, please."

"Yes, sir." When he came in, Wheeler still seemed flustered. Tim put it down to having discovered Colonel Matheson. If it had been his first experience with a dead body, it was no wonder he had been shaken by it.

"Take Agent McGee down to the crime scene and give him any help he needs."

For just an instant Tim thought Wheeler looked panicked as he nodded his assent, but it passed so quickly he decided it was his imagination. The silence as they headed down was distinctly uncomfortable and he decided to try and loosen him up a little.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Since last year."

"You like it?"

"Pays the bills. Usually."

There was no doubt about it. Wheeler was nervous. Tim thought maybe it was a reluctance to see the blood stain where the colonel had lain. "Did you know Colonel Matheson well?"

"Huh? Oh, no. Not really. He was a nice guy, just doing his job."

"It must have been a shock seeing him like that."

"Like what?"

Tim was confused. "Uh, dead?"

"Oh. Right. Um, yeah. There was more blood than I expected."

Suddenly, there was faint thump. "What was that?" Tim asked.

"What? I didn't hear anything."

Tim put his hand on his gun and strode out ahead of the security guard. "I'm sure I heard something, and no one should be down here right now. It's still a crime scene." Intent only on reaching the basement, Tim didn't notice Wheeler's expression which was now definitely panicked.

As Tim rounded the corner, he saw a concrete slab lying next to a hole near the center of the room. A large duffle bag was on top of it. A man in a maintenance uniform was halfway out of the hole, blood spattered on his clothes. For a moment, everyone was frozen with surprise. Tim recovered first. He pulled his gun and started to turn toward James. "James, call–" He was interrupted by James hitting him in the head with the butt of his gun. Tim fell to the ground, on the verge of blacking out. The meaning of the conversation that went on above his head was garbled.

"Why didn't you just shoot him?"

"I couldn't. Besides, someone might hear."

"Great, James. He's seen us _and_ he's still alive. What are we going to do with him?"

"You said no one would get hurt, Mick. Now two people are dead and I'm not going to make it three."

"Those two were necessities. Jody was getting greedy."

"We're not killing him."

Mick looked ready to make it an even four, but then he took a deep breath. "Fine. We'll dump him down there with Jody. If they find him, they find him. If not, we didn't kill him. We'll be long gone in any case."

Still dazed, Tim made vague motions toward getting up. Mick kicked him once in the chest, dropping him to the floor again. Then, he kicked him hard in the head, knocking him out completely.

James winced, but nodded, "Fine."

"Good. Give me a hand." Mick bent down and grabbed an arm.


	3. Discovery

A/N: I promise. This isn't another kidnaping story. McGee in peril, yes. (I only do it with love.:) Kidnaping, no.

**Chapter 3**

"Well, that was a bust. Colonel Matheson was well-liked, dedicated to his work. The guy was a saint, boss. At least for the Marine Corps he was a saint."

"Why was he retiring?" Ziva asked Gibbs.

"He'd had some injuries in the course of his career that were giving him trouble. He didn't feel he could adequately perform his duties. Requested retirement and it was granted. No secret projects. This consulting gig was more to keep him occupied than anything."

"Did McGee find anything?" Tony asked.

"He's not back yet."

"He's not? I thought for sure he'd beat us since we had further to go and more people to talk to."

"Give him a call. See where he is."

Tony pulled out his cell and dialed Tim's number. "No answer."

"Try again later. We still have work to do. McGee can catch up when he gets back." The tone in Gibbs' voice made it patently clear that Tim had better catch up quickly.

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Tim opened one eye. It was dark. His mind was so fuzzy that he registered little else for about ten minutes. He just lay in complete confusion. Eventually, he heard a ringing sound. He wondered what it was. It kept going and going. Then, he dredged up the identifying word for it: _phone_. Clumsily, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out, wincing as the movement sent sharp jabs of pain through his chest. He stared numbly at it for a second or two. The ringing stopped and the phone went dark. He sighed and dropped his hand... and touched something, someone. He shuddered. There was someone else with him. There was just enough light to discern the body on the ground next to him. Tim curled into a fetal position and felt the sticky moisture that was probably blood. The ringing began again. Again, he lifted the phone and tried to remember what to do with it. Oh, yes. Answer it. With this brilliant deduction realized, Tim pushed the appropriate button and put the phone to his ear.

"McGee? What is going on? You'd better be sick or dead. We've been calling you for hours."

"Boss?" Tim was still not thinking clearly and speaking in coherent sentences was beyond him for the moment.

"Who do you think it is, McGee? You'd better have a good reason for not being here. Where are you?"

"Boss? That you?"

The anger faded a little from Gibbs' voice as he noticed the confusion in Tim's tone. "Where are you, McGee?"

Tim looked around. "In the dark! Little lights on the ceiling." Suddenly, his situation seemed quite funny. "That could be important." He laughed, a little hysterically.

"McGee!"

Tim tried to get a grip on himself. His voice, as well as his thoughts, was slurred. "Boss, I think I'm in trouble. There's a dead body down here."

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"What's going on, boss?" Tony asked. He and Ziva had watched in amazement as the epxression on Gibbs' face had change from one of anger and annoyance to one of concern. Instead of answering, Gibbs put his phone on speaker so they could all listen.

"McGee, what's your position?"

"Prostrate." He paused and then laughed again. "That's kind of a funny word, boss. Prostrate. Sounds almost like..." his voice trailed off. There was silence and a gasp. "Boss, there's a dead body down here!"

"You already told me that, McGee."

"I did?"

"Yes. What else is down there?"

"Me." It was obvious to Tony and Ziva that Tim wasn't trying to be funny. There was something very wrong.

Patiently, Gibbs asked again, "What else, McGee?"

"Lots of blood. Sticky. I wonder how much is mine?"

"What happened, McGee?"

There was a long silence. They couldn't hear anything from the other side except Tim's breathing.

"What happened, McGee?"

"Boss? Are you there?"

"Yes, McGee. What happened?" Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva who shrugged. He mouthed for them to put a trace on Tim's phone.

"They hit me. All black. Wasn't fast enough." Again, a pause. Gibbs was beginning to dread it already. "Boss?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"There's a dead body down here. At least, I think it's dead. It's not moving." Another pause. "There's a lot of blood. I think some of it's mine."

"How badly are you hurt?"

In a flash of coherence and an attempt at humor, McGee said, "It only hurts when I breath or move or think." The chuckle Gibbs heard was quickly cut off in a gasp of pain.

"Where are you, McGee?"

"Don't know. It's all dark... except three white dots." Tim stopped, then mumbled, "That's important."

"Where were you when they hit you?"

"In the basement. They hit me and kicked me. Then, it all went black." Each sentence was punctuated with a gasping breath. It didn't sound good at all.

"In the basement at the crime scene?"

"Yeah." There was a pause and a gasp whether out of surprise or just to get a breath, Gibbs wasn't sure at first. Then, he heard, "Boss..."

"I know, McGee. There's a dead body down there with you."

"How did you know?"

"You've already told me."

"I have? Wouldn't I remember that?"

"Apparently not."

During this last exchange, Tony came up with the results of the trace. "He's still at the building, boss."

"You sure?"

"Well, his cell phone is certainly at the building. What's going on?"

"I have no idea. I'll let you know when I figure it out." Gibbs tossed the phone to Tony and added, "I'm driving."

"Sure, boss."

"See if you can get anything new from McGee. He sounding a little repetitive."

"Boss?" Tim's voice wavered. As the conversation progressed, Tim's breathing became more labored while his voice weakened.

"Hey, McGee."

"Tony? What are you doing here?"

"I'm not there, McGee. I'm on the phone."

"Right." There was a moment of silence as Tim gasped for breath. "Tell Gibbs that I think I'm in trouble."

"He already knows that, McGee."

"How?"

"You've been talking to him already."

"Oh. Really?" There was a gasp. "Tony, I think there's a dead body down here with me."

"I know. Tell me what happened."

"I just put my hand out and..."

Striving for patience, Tony said, "No, McGee. What happened before."

"Oh. I think James hit me in the head."

"James Wheeler? The security guard?"

"Yeah. Someone hit me from behind."

"How did that happen?"

"There's...someone else..." Tim paused for breath. "Tony, there's a dead body down here!"

Tony sighed and then hurriedly put on his seatbelt as Gibbs started driving. "Who else was involved besides James?"

"How did you know James was involved?"

"You told me, McGee. Who else?"

"I don't know. Maintenance guy. Big boots."

"Boots?"

"Yeah. I saw them."

While Tony was trying to make sense out of McGee's repetitive and increasingly confusing responses, Ziva called ahead and asked where James was. Ehrlich said he had gone even before his shift was over. There was only a skeleton crew there now as the bank was closed as well.

"I'm tired, Tony. Can we talk about this later?"

"No, McGee. That wouldn't be a good idea. We really need your help right now."

Silence.

"McGee!"

No response, just some weak coughing.

"McGee! Talk to me!"

Tim's voice sounded weaker. "Tony?"

"Yeah, McGee. Keep talking, okay?"

"Tony, I think there's a dead body down here."

"What else is down there, McGee?" Remembering what Tim had said before, he hastened to add, "Besides you and the body. What else is there?"

"A ladder. I think my foot just hit it. Maybe..."

After a pause, Tony asked, "What else?"

"Three white dots above my head."

"And?"

"No walls." Tony heard a gasping breath, then, "I wonder how the ceiling is staying up."

Tony heard some strange sounds over the phone and then a gasp of pain. When Tim's narrative resumed, his breathing sounded much more labored, almost like he was wheezing. "There're... a lot... of pipes."

"What happened?"

"Can't... breathe. Can't get... out."

"Hang on, McGee. We're almost there."

"Blood... everywhere. Killed Matheson."

"Who did?"

Tim's words no longer corresponded with the questions. "Tunnels... no... walls."

They pulled up to the building and ran past the manager who tried to tell them that he hadn't seen Tim for hours. When they reached the basement, they stopped, confused. There was no sign of any entrance to tunnels.

The manager, who had followed them down, asked, "What's going on, Agent Gibbs? James told me that Agent McGee had what he needed and left."

"James was one of the people who killed Colonel Matheson. McGee is still here," Gibbs said shortly. "Where could someone be hidden down here?"

The manager looked confused for a minute and then, realization dawned. "The tunnels!"

"What tunnels?"

"Agent McGee was interested in the steam tunnels under the floor."

"Under the floor in here?"

"Yes!"

"How do we get down there?"

"You have to lift the correct slab. Some of them only go to small access shafts. Others link to the tunnels themselves."

"Where? McGee is in real trouble right now. We need to find him fast."

As if on cue, Tony said, "Boss, I can't get him to talk to me anymore. I can hear him breathing, but nothing else."

Gibbs reached out and took the phone while the manager grabbed the prybars. "McGee!"

Nothing. As Tony had said, Tim was still breathing, but he didn't respond.

"McGee! Answer me. That's an order!"

Faintly, he heard a sigh, "Yes, boss."

"We need your help, Tim. Don't give up now."

"Tired. So tired."

"I understand, Tim, but we need your help."

"Boss..."

"I know there's a body down there, Tim. I need you to shout as loud as you can. Not into the phone, but out loud so we can get to you. Can you do that?"

"I'll... try." Gibbs heard Tim draw a deep breath and pulled the phone down. He heard a faint, "Hey!".

"Good, Tim." Gibbs walked toward the sound. He stopped and looked down. He saw three holes in one of the slabs. "I see your spots."

"Three... dots?"

"Yes, that's it."

Tony and Ehrlich came running in with pry bars. They inserted them into the slots and lifted. It seemed to take forever to move the concrete slab, particularly knowing that McGee was possibly dying so close to them. Finally, panting for breath, the hole was opened. Gibbs and Ziva looked down and saw Tim laying on the ground, covered in blood, and the oft-mentioned body in a twisted heap next to him. Ziva immediately pulled out her phone. Then, she cursed and ran out of the basement so she could get enough reception to call for paramedics.

Gibbs hurriedly climbed down the ladder. Tim was curled in a fetal position facing the body, one hand across his chest and the other holding the phone tightly to his ear. Carefully, Gibbs turned him over and took the phone. Tim made a weak attempt to hold onto it but then let it go.

"It's okay, McGee. We're here."

Tim's eyes opened. Or rather one eye opened; the other was swollen shut and caked with drying blood. Gibbs could see a dark bruise covering half his face. Tim looked vaguely at Gibbs and whispered, "Boss? How... did you find me?" Then, he coughed weakly and groaned.

"You told us where you were, McGee."

"I don't... remember."

"That's okay. Just stay still."

Tim's eye closed. Gibbs shook him gently.

"You need to stay awake, McGee."

Tim opened his eye again. "Boss? What's going on?" He looked around and saw the body again. He gasped, "W-who is that, boss? What happened?"

"We don't know yet, McGee."

Ziva leaned over the hole. "The paramedics are here."

One came down, quickly assessed Tim's injuries, and strapped him to a board. He and Gibbs handed him up to Tony and the other paramedic.

"Tony, you go to the hospital. Ziva and I will look around here."

Looking anything but happy with the assignment, Tony said, "Sure, boss." He followed the paramedics.

"Ducky's on his way, Gibbs."

"Good. Let's see where this tunnel leads."


	4. What do you remember?

**Chapter 4**

Tony sat in the waiting room, feeling stupid. Why in the world had Gibbs made him come here? He was out of place among these traumatized families. The doctor had come out once and told him that Tim was in surgery. Great. Now what was he supposed to do? He could have been helping out somewhere, doing his job. What a waste of time.

Suddenly, the door flew open and the whirlwind of energy that was Abby rushed in. He had heard about her near hysterics when Gibbs was in a coma, but this was his first opportunity to see her in action. And he realized why Gibbs had sent him to the hospital.

"Abby, calm down!"

"Tony! What's going on? What happened to McGee? I heard you found him and that he was sent to the hospital! What happened to him? Is he alright?"

Tony grabbed her and said, "Abby, shh! You're disturbing the other patients. McGee will be fine. He's in surgery right now and–"

"Surgery? For what?"

"I don't know yet, Abbs. I'm just waiting. Why don't you sit down here and wait? We can't do anything until they're done." Tony took Abby by the shoulders and forced her to sit down. Then, he sat next to her and together they waited.

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"...but we won't know if we were successful until he wakes up. We were able to repair the damage to his lung, and the swelling has gone down. He should make a full recovery, but there's still a chance that there was permanent damage. At this point, the coma is not a cause for alarm. Timothy's body is repairing itself."

"But it's been two days!" Abby protested. She was seated by Tim in his room.

"I'm aware of that, Ms. Sciuto. He'll wake up when he's ready. He's already breathing on his own. We removed the ventilator this morning. Just give him a chance."

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"McGe-e! Come on, McGee, wakey, wakey!" The singsonging voice intruded on his consciousness. It was too much effort to think about it though. He simply lay motionless in the pleasant fog of the semi-conscious.

"McGe-e!" His eyelids fluttered. "I saw that, McGee. I know you're awake."

The voice just wouldn't go away. His eyelids fluttered again and he mumbled, "Le-me 'lone."

"Not a chance, Probie. You've been sleeping too long already. Open your eyes."

Finally, Tim realized that the voice wasn't going to leave him alone. He made a Herculean effort and tried to open his eyes. Only one opened. He couldn't see anything on his left. No one was there.

"Good job, McGee."

Still not quite coherent, Tim tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. "Where–?"

"To your left, McGee."

Tim gave that statement due consideration and turned his head toward the voice. "Tony? Where'm I?" His words were still a bit slurred.

"The hospital, McGee."

"Why?" Tim fought to dispel the fog in his mind. His eye slid closed again.

"What do you remember?"

Tim mumbled something incomprehensible.

"McGee!"

Again, he tried to open his eye. He looked over at Tony again. "About what?"

"Huh?"

"You asked me what I remember. About what?" Tim might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn Tony looked relieved.

"Let's just start with the last thing you remember."

"Uh, steam tunnels."

"What about them?"

Suddenly, the memory came rushing back, flooding through his mind so quickly that he gasped a little. He started to speak almost without realizing it. "Talking to the manager about the basement. ...Tunnels underneath the floor...maybe the killers had been trying to rob the bank through the tunnels. I wanted to check it out. James went with me...heard a noise. Went ahead. Someone in the floor. Turned for help and James hit me. Muddled voices and a boot coming at my face. Then... here." Tim related his memory in short bursts, not really even speaking to Tony.

"Nothing else?"

"No. Should there be?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not the expert here."

"What happened?"

Tony hesitated and looked at Tim. The bruise on the side of his head was not so livid as it had been that first day, but it was still bad enough. It was centered on his temple and radiated outward covering nearly half his face. That trauma, along with the amount of time he had lain in the steam tunnels untreated, was what had caused his anterograde amnesia. In fact, the doctors had been surprised he'd been as coherent as Tony had reported considering the amount of head trauma he had suffered, along with his broken ribs and blood loss.

"Tony!" Groggy he might be, but Tim's eye was clear and he was obviously getting frightened.

Tony took a deep breath. "You nearly died, Tim."

Tim just stared at Tony nearly as shocked by the fact that Tony had used his first name as by the information he had relayed.

"H-how long–?"

"It's been three days since we found you."

"Three days?"

"Yeah, McGee. They beat you up pretty bad and then left you for dead."

"How did you find me?"

"You don't remember at all, do you."

"Remember what? What happened?"

Tony looked ill at ease and rather nervous. "I'm not sure I should be telling you all this yet."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not sure it would be a good idea. Maybe I should just get your doctor."

"Tony!"

"Just sit tight, Probie. I'll be back." Tony walked out the door, ignoring Tim's call behind him.

Left alone, Tim began to explore his injuries, trying to figure out what had been so bad that he had almost been killed. First, he realized that there must be something wrong with his eye since he couldn't see anything to his left. He lifted his hand toward his face but felt only a slight swelling. As he felt further back on his head, his hand ran into a bandage. He paused and then continued toward the back and felt another bandage. "That must be where James hit me," he said aloud. Even the slight motions he had made left him feeling dizzy. They must have been bad. As he shifted position, trying to get comfortable, he felt a twinge in his chest. "Broken ribs," he said to himself. Either there was something else that he didn't know about or the injuries he had found so far were far worse than he thought.

"Welcome back, Mr. McGee!" said an entirely-too-jovial man wearing a lab coat. "I'm Dr. Bills. How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure. What happened to me?" Tim looked behind Dr. Bills, but Tony had not returned. He felt unaccountably abandoned. "Tony said I nearly died."

"Well, I don't know how you were injured, but your friend was right."

"But I don't feel like I almost died."

"Well, there are two reasons for that, Mr. McGee. First, you aren't dying anymore and so you wouldn't feel like you were. Second, you're on pretty strong pain medication right now. You probably don't feel much of anything, do you."

"I guess not. I'm just really tired and a little dizzy."

"That's normal."

"I only found three places that I was hurt. How could they be as bad as that?"

Dr. Bills looked at Tim shrewdly, and appeared to make a decision. "Mr. McGee–"

Tim grimaced. "Please, don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"It's too close to Mr. Magoo. I get enough teasing from my team as it is."

"Ah, I see. Well, Timothy..." he paused looking for approval. At Tim's nod, he continued, "the contusion on the back of your skull was comparatively minor. There was some swelling, but it was easily treated. I'd say it was a half-hearted whack at best. The second injury to your head was much more severe. Do you know how it happened?"

"I think he kicked me." Tim yawned.

"That would do it. If it had been any harder, the brain damage might have been permanent."

"Brain damage? What do you mean?"

"You suffered from anterograde amnesia, often called short-term memory loss."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you were unable to recall a conversation you had seconds after it had taken place. According to Agent DiNozzo, you gave the exact same information nearly ten times, each time obviously thinking it was the first time you'd said it. And for you, it was the first time. Nothing reached long-term memory for you. And it was caused by some massive swelling on your brain which went unchecked while you were in those steam tunnels. In addition, your ribs were broken twice. Once, it pierced your lung causing what we call hemothorax. It seemed to have been a later injury, not from your initial attack."

Reeling from the litany he was receiving, Tim asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because if your lung had been punctured initially, you most likely _would _be dead now. In short, you suffered from swellings on your brain, blood loss, and a punctured lung. Each one of those injuries could have been fatal. The fact that you survived is amazing, and that you survived with all your mental functions intact, a miracle."

In a small voice, Tim asked, "Do I look bad?"

Dr. Bills smiled kindly. "Quite frankly, yes. You've noticed your lack of vision on your left side?" Tim nodded slowly. "That's a result of the swelling from a large hematoma centered on your temple. Your eye is swollen shut although that probably won't last for too much longer. As it starts to heal, it'll look worse, as bruises so often do." He chuckled at the horror on Tim's face. "Don't worry, Timothy. I realize that you're overwhelmed by what happened. Just rest and recover. You'll be staying here for a couple more days, mainly for observation. Relax and don't worry. Now that you're awake, you're on your way."

"What do I do now?"

"Now? I would recommend that you sleep, give your body a chance to recuperate. I'll be by to check on you later."


	5. An official interview

**Chapter 5**

"Tim! I'm so glad you're okay!" It was only with great effort that Abby didn't hug him.

"Thanks, Abby. Me too." After Dr. Bills had left him to rest, Tim had intended to think some more but had drifted off and slept through the night. "Have you found them yet?"

"Who?"

"The guys who killed Colonel Matheson."

"Not yet. They're pretty well hidden right now. None of the money they stole has shown up yet."

"So it _was_ a robbery?" Tim was gratified to find out that he had been right.

"Oh. I forgot you hadn't heard any of this yet. Yeah, they must have been planning it for weeks. They used the steam tunnels to get into the bank and drill into the vault. In fact, Tony told me that someone must have been living down there because there was a sleeping bag and some remnants of food supplies. Based on the available space and the size of the sleeping bag, it must have been the woman Gibbs found..." Abby trailed off awkwardly.

"With me. The woman he found next to me, right?"

Abby nodded.

Tim looked away and said quietly, "Jody."

"What, Tim?"

"Have you identified her yet?"

"Her fingerprints weren't in the system and she didn't have any I.D., but we're still looking."

"I think her name may have been Jody." He paused. "How did she die?"

Abby looked at him shrewdly. "You couldn't have saved her, Tim. She was probably dead before you even got dropped in that hole. Ducky said her throat had been cut and she bled out."

Images flashed through Tim's memory: a man halfway out of a hole, a duffel bag, darkness, three points of light. He tried to make sense of them.

"Tim? Hello?" Abby waved her fingers in front of Tim's face.

Tim jumped a little. "Sorry, Abbs. The other guy, he had blood on his clothes."

"Are you sure?"

He laughed. "No. I'm not sure of anything about that period. It's just flashes. I think I remember James Wheeler calling him Mick, and I think he had blood on the uniform he was wearing, but I'm not sure. Abby?"

"Yeah?"

Tim hesitated. "How bad do I look right now?"

"Pretty bad. You want to see?"

"Um...yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Abby fished a little mirror out of the depths of her bag and handed it to him. Tim looked at himself. She was right. It was bad. He could now open his eye a little bit, but the whole left side of his face was covered by a massive bruise. There was just a hint now of the sickly rainbow his face would shortly become as the bruise began to heal. He wondered how far back under his hair it went.

"What do you think, McGee?"

Tim gulped. "You're right. It's pretty bad."

"It won't last."

"I know. I just never imagined it. I'm glad I didn't have time to feel it."

"What do you mean?"

"I remember the man getting ready to kick me, seeing the boot come flying at my face. I think I must have turned my head at the last minute, but I don't remember him actually hitting me." Tim yawned and his eyelids drooped. He was suddenly overcome with lethargy. "Sorry, Abby. I'm really tired all of sudden."

"That's okay, Tim. I need to get to work anyway. I'll stop by later."

"Okay, thanks for coming."

Abby pecked him on the cheek and left. When Tim reawakened later, Tony was in the room flipping idly through a magazine.

"What are you doing here, Tony?"

"Official business, Probie."

"What official business?"

"You're a witness. I need to take your statement and then you need to talk to a sketch artist so we can get a composite of your attacker."

"Didn't you already ask me about what happened?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't official, and quite frankly you weren't completely coherent, McGee."

Tim sighed and winced. "Okay. Where would you like me to start?"

Tony made a show of taking out his notes. "Well, we already got the building manager's statement about when Wheeler went on his shift and what you two talked about. Why don't we go from there?"

"Mr. Ehrlich couldn't remember whether there were walls in the steam tunnels under the floor. I wanted to check it out before reporting back to Gibbs so he called up James to help me while I was looking around. Thinking back now, James was really nervous, almost panicked. I put it down to the shock of finding Colonel Matheson at the time." Tim paused. "Obviously, a bad assumption."

"I'll have to agree seeing the result."

Tim grimaced. "Anyway, as we were walking down, I thought I heard... something. A thump, I guess. I was suspicious because no one else should have been down there."

"Why didn't you call for backup?"

"I had backup, or so I thought. James was with me and I didn't know he was part of it. I walked ahead of him and drew my gun. When I came around the corner, there was a man halfway out of the entrance to the tunnels. It starts to get a little fuzzy here. I'm pretty sure he was dressed in a maintenance uniform and that it had blood on it. I started to turn to James to ask him to call for help, but he hit me in the head. After that, I can't give you any real details. I was fading in and out. They were arguing, and James called him Mick, I think. He referred to someone named Jody. I guess that's the woman in the tunnels with me. He kicked me when I tried to get up, and the last thing I remember is his foot coming at my face."

"You really don't remember anything after that?"

"No. Dr. Bills told me that I had anterograde amnesia, but you couldn't prove that by me. As far as I know, I got kicked in the face and woke up in the hospital. What did I do?"

"Mostly repeated yourself. You kept telling us that there was a dead body down there with you and that you could see three white dots. You were pretty out of it even while you were awake."

"How long was I down there?"

"Awhile. You know, I'm supposed to be asking the questions, Probie."

"Sorry. What else is there?"

"You said that James and the other guy talked while you were still conscious? Do you remember anything they said beyond names?"

Tim thought back. Voices arguing about him. "Mick wanted to kill me, but James said no. Something about not making it three. Mick seemed to be more in charge. James was afraid. I don't know what else."

"That's okay, McGee."

"Is there any sign of them?"

"Not so far. We have alerts out and once we get your description of this Mick, we'll put the pictures on the news."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

Tim hesitated, then shook his head, wincing at the injudicious motion. "Never mind."

Tony looked at him. "Gibbs isn't mad at you, McGee. You didn't mess up." Tim raised one eyebrow. "Well, not too much. Any one of us probably would have made the same mistake. The sketch artist will be here soon."

"Thanks."

"No problem, McGee." Tony waltzed out, whistling.


	6. BOLO

**Chapter 6**

"So, what do we have?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Ziva said. "No hits on the BOLO as yet. The sketch McGee gave is sadly incomplete. It could be nearly anyone."

"Both Jody Arons and this Mick show up in the security footage, we think, always in maintenance uniforms, but the company has no record of their employment. Wheeler always signed them in," Tony added.

"How often?"

"Arons, only twice. The last time was three weeks ago. The man who appears to be Mick shows up six times in the last month. Wheeler never missed his shift and neither of them ever came to the building when he was off."

"What about the building manager?"

"He didn't recognize either of them, Gibbs. He said that wasn't his job."

"Alright. Keep on it." Gibbs walked out.

Tony turned to Ziva. "Have you visited McGee yet?"

"No. Why would I? He'll be back here soon enough."

"No reason."

"Tony, do you really think he'd feel better with _me_ there?"

Tony smirked. "Good point."

"Does he feel better when you show up?"

"Probably not, but I think he likes the acknowledgment."

"Ah."

"What have you got, Abbs?"

"Wow, Gibbs! I was just about to call you! I've been playing around with some facial recognition software, and I think we can conclusively say that the man McGee described is the same as the guy in the security tapes."

"Do you have an ID?"

"No. But at least we have a face to go with the name." Gibbs only grunted and walked out. Abby called after him, "But I'll keep working on it!"

"Ah-hah! Gotcha, Mitchell Randall! You're mine now!"

"Who's Mitchell Randall, Abby?"

Abby turned from her computer in glee. "I'm glad you asked, Tony. This is 'Mick' otherwise known as Mitchell Randall."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Silly question. I did a comparison of facial features, and this is the only guy who fits. He got a driver's license five years ago, and I got 'im."

"Great. I'll get the picture out."

**---------------------------------------------------------------**

"We got a hit on the BOLO, boss," Tony said as he hung up the phone.

"Where?"

"A dinky little hotel off the freeway about 30 miles away. Some manager saw the pictures and recognized them from two guys who checked in yesterday."

"Are they still there?"

"He said they haven't checked out yet."

"What about their car?"

"He didn't know what car they drove. I told him we were on our way and that he shouldn't do anything."

"Fine."


	7. That makes four?

**Chapter 7**

"I thought you said I'd be able to leave by now." Tim was trying not to sound petulant, but even though he didn't feel entirely stable when upright, his mind was perfectly clear and he was tired of sitting around.

"We want to be sure there's no recurrence of the swelling, Timothy. I'm sure you don't want that either."

"No, but–"

"We know what we're doing, and right now that involves taking no chances. Would you rather go home by yourself and have a relapse?"

Tim sighed. "No."

"Good. I know this is frustrating for you when you feel fine, but please trust me. Tomorrow, or Friday at the latest."

"Okay." Tim sighed again as Dr. Bills left. Then, he stood and wobbled his way to the bathroom. He grimaced at his reflection. The edges of the bruise on his face were starting to turn green as his body began to heal. As he headed back to his bed, Abby stuck her head in the door.

"Hey, McGee!"

"Abby!" Tim pulled the back of the hospital gown closed and slowly edged his way back to the bed.

"Tim, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Tim blushed. "I know, but..." he trailed off. He sat down and pulled up the blankets.

"You're looking pretty colorful now."

"I know. That means I'm getting better, I suppose."

"When are you getting released?"

"Tomorrow or Friday. I was hoping for sooner, but Dr. Bills says they need the extra time."

"I guess they know what they're talking about."

"Yeah," Tim agreed reluctantly.

"You bored, Tim?"

"I've been laying around for four days, Abby. Of course, I'm bored."

"You want some company?"

Tim smiled. "Are you offering?"

Abby grinned back. "Are you accepting?"

"Have a seat," Tim said and gestured grandly at the chair by the bed.

--------------------------------------------

"I didn't do anything, like you said, Agent DiNozzo." The desk clerk was in his early twenties and looked both nervous and excited by all the action. "As soon as I saw their faces on the TV, I knew they were in the hotel."

"What room?"

"Room 23. Here's the key."

Tony took it. "I don't think we'll need it. Stay here."

Gibbs, Tony and Ziva headed to the room. The drapes were pulled over the window, and the television was on. Gibbs nodded at the other two and drew his gun. Together they burst into the room. It was empty.

Ziva went into the bathroom. "Clear!"

Tony opened the closets. "All clear in here, boss."

Gibbs looked around. "The manager said no one had checked out." The room was set up like any budget hotel with two beds against one wall, the TV on the other, a couple of closets and a bathroom. Everything seemed normal, except for the TV being on.

Tony noticed a pile of blankets on the floor between the wall and one of the beds. He walked over and nudged it. "There's something under here, boss!" Ziva came over to back him up. Tony quickly whipped the blankets out of the way.

"It's Wheeler!"

"Dead?"

A weak voice came from the body on the floor. "That makes four..."

Tony pulled him out from his hiding place and noticed the blood. "What makes four, Wheeler?"

James suddenly lifted his blood-soaked hand from the wound in his abdomen and grabbed Tony's arm. "I'm four." Then, his hand dropped and he was still.

Tony felt for a pulse. Nothing. "He's dead, boss."

Ziva asked, "What did he mean? Why is he four?"

"I think it's safe to assume that Randall killed his partner. Don't you think?" Tony said. "If McGee was right and he's also the one who killed Matheson and Arons, that would be three kills... if he didn't know that McGee had survived, he might have thought it was four." Suddenly, Tony jumped up. "Or–"

Gibbs finished for him. "Or Randall is going to make it four by getting rid of the only other witness."

Without another word, the three ran out the door. Tony took out his cell phone and called first for backup to come and take over the scene and then to the hospital to have them check on Tim. Gibbs sped onto the interstate... and right into rush hour. There was an accident on the road blocking one of the lanes which snarled the already heavy traffic and slowed progress to a crawl.

Tony moaned, "This is going to take forever."

-------------------------------------------------

"Agent McGee?"

Abby turned around, one sleeve of her jacket hanging loose. A security guard stood hulking in the doorway.

Tim leaned up around her. "Yes?"

"Are you two okay in here?"

Tim and Abby exchanged glances. "Yes. Why?"

"Agent Gibbs called and said we were to make sure you were safe."

"Why?"

"He didn't elaborate, but I'll be right outside until they get here."

"Okay."

The door closed and Abby looked back at Tim. She giggled. "Man, he's huge!"

"Yeah. What do you think happened?"

"I don't know. I'll stay until Gibbs gets here."

"You don't have to, Abby. You just told me you had plans tonight."

"They're not important, Tim. Besides, I won't be able to have fun if I know that you're in peril."

Tim grimaced. "I'm not in peril. I'm sure it's just a mistake." Even as he said it, Tim had a feeling of something being off. Something he was missing. It must have shown in his face.

"I'm not leaving," Abby said as she removed her jacket and sat down.

"Okay."

---------------------------------------------

"Security sent a guard to McGee's room and he'll be there until we get there," Tony reported.

Gibbs didn't reply. Instead, he swerved off the interstate and began tearing down the back streets.

"What's wrong, boss?"

"Something doesn't feel right."

---------------------------------------------

The light-hearted atmosphere was gone. They tried to talk, but continually lapsed into silence. The minutes passed and turned into an hour. Abby dozed in her chair and Tim was nearly asleep in his bed.

Then, the door opened. Abby roused just enough to turn and see the huge fist coming at her face. She dropped to the floor. Tim opened his eyes and started to yell for help, but the security guard, whom he suddenly recognized as the man who had wanted to kill him, grabbed a pillow and pushed it over his face. Tim panicked and fought wildly against the strong arms slowly suffocating him. And yet, even as he fought, he couldn't help but wonder if Abby would be okay. She had fallen so heavily. Lights flashed in front of his eyes as his brain, starved for air, began to shut down. Still he fought, although he was weakening fast. It wasn't only for himself. If this man was willing to sneak into the hospital to kill him without any evidence that he'd been able to identify him, he'd certainly kill Abby once he was done with Tim.

A relentlessly objective part of his mind wondered if there'd be any permanent damage to his face and who would speak at his funeral. Tony would definitely lighten things up, but he probably wouldn't want the assignment. Maybe Abby? That had possibilities. Ziva or Gibbs? No. Absolutely not. It was too bad he wouldn't be able to finish his book. He'd had a good feeling about the sequel. Was he popular enough to be published posthumously? Probably not. Finally, the darkness overtook him, and Tim couldn't fight anymore. He stopped and let his mind go blank.

-------------------------------------------------

"NCIS! Freeze!" Gibbs, Ziva and Tony spilled into the room all at once. Randall stood over the bed, smothering Tim with a pillow. Abby lay motionless on the floor. After only a second's hesitation, Gibbs shot Randall twice in the leg. He yelled and let go of the pillow. He made a move toward the trio.

"Move a muscle and you die right here," Gibbs said menacingly. Randall stopped. Tony forced him to the ground ignoring his exclamations of pain. He cuffed his hands roughly behind his back. Ziva had already pushed the call button and was doing mouth-to-mouth on Tim. Gibbs knelt by Abby.

"Is she okay?" Tony asked.

"She'll be fine."

Before Tony could say any more, a veritable horde of doctors came in.

"McGee's not breathing," Ziva reported, shortly. The doctors quickly pushed everyone to the side and started to work on Tim.

One knelt down next to Gibbs and checked Abby. She moaned faintly. "She's alright, but let's get her to a bed."

As Gibbs and the doctor took Abby out of the room, Tony and Ziva looked at Randall lying on the floor, bleeding.

"I guess we have to help him, too," Tony said reluctantly.

"I suppose so," Ziva agreed. Neither of them moved for a moment, but then Ziva sighed and grabbed a doctor out in the hallway. Randall was loaded on a gurney and taken to the secure wing. By the time they got back to Tim's room, only one doctor was there with a nurse taking down vitals. Tim's face was covered with an oxygen mask, but he was breathing.

"Is McGee going to be alright?" Tony asked.

Dr. Bills nodded. "He's breathing again, but still unconscious. I have high hopes that he'll come out of this unscathed."

"High hopes?" Ziva said incredulously.

"I can't be more exact at this point. The brain is still more mysterious than we doctors would like to let on. Timothy recovered from his last attack better than I would have predicted. I have no doubt he'll acquit himself equally well this time. However, we just have to wait." Having said his piece, Dr. Bills went back to his patient. Tony and Ziva looked at each other and turned to find where Abby and Gibbs had gone.


	8. Still alive

**Chapter 8**

He was still alive. Tim wasn't sure whether or not he was happy about that fact. But actually breathing was a nice change from recent experience. His sluggish mind registered a distinct lack of pillow on his face so he could assume that either Randall had a change of heart (unlikely) or someone had got to them in time. There was an easy way to find out. All he had to do was open his eyes, but fighting against gravity, even in that minuscule way, seemed too much. Instead, he just lay there hoping that no more pillows would be covering his face. At least the room was quiet.

"McGee?"

A voice. Well, it didn't seem too menacing, but the bad guys rarely did in real life. Although it was amazing what a British accent could do for an otherwise innocuous voice. Take Hannibal Lecter, for example. McGee's mind rambled off in random directions.

"McGee, are you awake?"

The voice again. Sounds and faces, memories of the recent past slowly began to coalesce into consciousness. Suddenly, Tim realized who was speaking to him and he couldn't believe he was still lying motionless, ignoring his boss. His eyes flew open.

"Yes, boss?" Gibbs looked uncommonly grim, and Tim suddenly remembered that he hadn't been alone when Randall attacked him. He paled and started to sit up. "Is Abby okay? Where is she? What happened?" Tim was halfway out of the bed when Gibbs pushed him down.

"Whoa, slow down, McGee."

But Tim was not to be deterred. His mind was whirling. "Where's Abby, Gibbs? Did Randall get her?"

"Tim, she's fine. Calm down. She got off a lot lighter than you did. I was worried about you."

Tim dismissed that. "Are you sure Abby's okay?"

"She's fine. She had a bit of a concussion, and she's sleeping. They're keeping her overnight, just in case, but she'll be headed home soon."

Tim hung his head. "I'm so sorry, boss. I told her she could go, but she insisted on staying. I should have told her to just leave, but I liked the company. I never dreamed that anything would happen. I should have recognized his face, his voice. Something. It just happened so fast and I didn't expect–"

Gibbs interrupted Tim's litany of self-recrimination. "Tim, this wasn't your fault. No one blames you. Stop apologizing for something you didn't do."

"Sorry, boss," Tim said, still looking down, not even noticing the fact that he'd just apologized again.

Gibbs held back a smile. No worries about Tim losing his personality. His apologizing muscles were working just fine. "Just tell me what happened. Abby could only remember a little bit."

"He said he was a security guard, and neither of us really paid attention to his face, just that he was big. We sat and waited for you to get here, but it took so long that we both dozed off. He came in and Abby must have woken up first because I opened my eyes just as she was falling." Tim closed his eyes to block out that image. He continued, "I started to yell, but he moved so fast. Then, the pillow was over my face. I tried to fight him off, but I couldn't do anything. I kept pushing at him, but I couldn't stop it." Unbidden, a tear rolled down his cheek. "Almost all I could think of was the idea that if I died, he'd probably kill Abby too, but it didn't matter. I couldn't do anything. The last thing I remember is everything going black."

"It's okay, McGee."

McGee still didn't look up. "What happened after?"

"We came in, shot him, and called in the doctors."

"Is he dead?"

"No. He'll survive to go to trial. You almost didn't though. Ziva had to give you mouth-to-mouth until the doctors got there. Otherwise you might be dead."

Tim looked up. "She did?"

"Yes." Gibbs paused. "And Wheeler is dead."

"How?"

"Randall probably killed him."

Tim just nodded. It made sense.

Gibbs saw that McGee was still beating himself up. This was the one character trait that he wished _he_ could just beat out of him completely. McGee took too much blame on himself for every mistake and that usually led him to make more mistakes.

"Just rest, McGee. It's over now."

Tim nodded again. Gibbs shook his head as he left.


	9. Better

**Chapter 9**

Tim was wide awake. There was no possibility of sleep. Even though Gibbs had reassured him that Abby was fine, he knew he wouldn't really believe it until he saw her. The moment when he had seen her dropping to the floor was worse than any crime scene he'd processed. Instead, he called the nurses' station and found out where Abby was. Then, pausing to pull off his remaining monitors, remove his IV and put on a robe, he slowly walked to her room. When he got there, he felt winded. He nearly collapsed into the chair by her bed. As Gibbs had said, she was asleep, curled up in a fetal position with her hippo, of course. He wondered who had brought it for her. She had quite the shiner, but otherwise looked fine.

"Abby, I'm sorry," Tim whispered.

She didn't respond, but shifted position in her sleep. The hippo fell freely to the bed and her hand dangled over the edge. Tim gently took her hand and held it to his face.

"I'm so sorry." For the rest of the night he sat there, holding her hand. It was nearly dawn by the time his body finally unwound enough for him to actually sleep.

----------------------------------------------------------

"McGee? Tim? Can I have my hand back?" Abby gently shook the still form leaning on the bed.

Tim's eyes opened lazily. She noticed the left one lagged slightly behind the right, no doubt a result of his recent head trauma. He stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"Tim? You okay?"

Tim blinked. His world narrowed to the pair of green eyes staring with concern into his own.

"You're okay!"

"Yeah, Tim. Are _you_ okay?"

Tim didn't even seem to hear the question. He relinquished her hand and crushed her in a giant hug.

"I'm so glad you're alright."

Abby tried not to be weirded out by Tim's outburst, but he was definitely overreacting, and that was usually her job. She flexed her hand gratefully and then gingerly wrapped her arms around him.

"Tim, all I got was a black eye. You're the one who nearly died... again."

Tim's arms tightened around her, and his body began to shake.

"Whoa, Tim. It's alright. I'm fine. Didn't Gibbs tell you?"

Tim sniffed loudly and reined in his emotions. "Yeah. I-I just had to see you for myself. It was the worst moment when I saw you falling to the ground. I didn't know if you were dead or if Randall was going to kill you. It was almost all I could think about."

Abby pulled back from him. "I'm just fine, Tim."

Tim smiled wanly. "I can see that now." He sank into the chair by her bed.

"What else did you think about?"

"What?"

"You said that I was _almost_ all you could think about. What else were you thinking about?"

Tim blushed and regretted his innate honesty. Of course, _Abby_ would pick up on that qualifier. No one else would have noticed. "Nothing important."

Heartened by the fact that she'd distracted him from his guilt, Abby persisted. "Come on, Tim. Tell me. It won't leave this room, I promise."

Still blushing furiously, Tim shrugged a little and stared at the floor. "Umm..." he didn't know really how to say it.

"Ti-im. I'm waiting!"

"I was thinking about who I'd want to speak at my funeral and if I'd look good enough to have an open casket," Tim mumbled.

Abby let out a loud laugh. "You're kidding. You were being smothered by a homicidal maniac and you were thinking about your funeral?!"

Tim shrugged again. "Yeah."

"Who did you choose?"

"You or Tony."

"Really? Why?"

"Tony would keep people laughing and, well," he hitched his shoulders with embarrassment, "you know me best."

Now it was Abby's turn to blush. She looked around the room. "Tim, how did you get here?"

"I walked."

"All by yourself? Why didn't you get a wheelchair or something?"

Tim looked a little sheepish. "I guess I didn't think of it. I should probably get back to my room."

"Probably. Thanks for worrying."

Tim smiled. It wasn't completely free of worry, but it was much closer than it had been. "Anytime." He started to stand when the door opened.

"Ah, Timothy. I thought you'd be here." Ducky looked proud of his prowess and spoke to someone outside the door. "As I told you, Timothy is just visiting Abigail."

"I'm just leaving, Ducky."

"A good idea. I'm sure your doctors will not be happy with your nighttime wanderings. Ziva was here to visit you and was convinced that Randall had escaped from custody and taken you hostage."

"Ziva?" Tim was amazed and craned his neck to see around Ducky. Ziva was standing uncomfortably out in the hallway.

"Yes. Actually, Ziva, why don't you assist Timothy back to his room?"

"Oh, that's okay. I can make it," Tim said quickly. Ziva did not look like she relished the assignment.

But Ziva walked into the room and said, "No, McGee. It would be my pleasure." She held out her hand, a bit uncertainly. Tim looked at Abby who just shrugged and smiled as she hopped off the bed and started gathering her stuff. Tim stood, walked over and leaned gently on Ziva's shoulder. She was significantly shorter than he was, but tall enough to keep him from falling over.

-------------------------------------------------

Tim and Ziva walked in an uncomfortable silence. In spite of the fact that Tim had been the first one to really accept her presence on the team, they were still such opposites that finding common ground was difficult, if not impossible. That difficulty often kept them from interacting outside of work.

Tim cleared his throat. "Thanks for coming by, Ziva." He flushed as he realized how inane he sounded.

"I just wanted to be sure you were alright, McGee."

They walked further and then, she added, whispering almost to herself, "I don't like seeing people unconscious. It's too close to death."

Tim nodded. "I know what you mean," he said, thinking of Abby.

Ziva looked up at him briefly and tightened her grip around his waist to show she understood.

When they finally reached his room, she released him and stepped back, giving him space.

Tim took a step toward his room and then turned back to his teammate.

"It will be good to have you back, McGee."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Ziva... for everything." That was as close as he could come to showing his gratitude for what she had done for him. She wouldn't feel comfortable with anything more. He knew that.

She smiled a little. "You're welcome, McGee."


	10. Epilogue: The return

**Epilogue**

It was a week later. Tim woke up early. He laughed at himself, at how excited he was to finally be returning to work, but he'd been bored out of his mind sitting around his apartment. Oh, he'd done some work on his book and Abby had come over a few times, but he desperately wanted to be getting on with his life. Dr. Bills had given him clearance yesterday (his bruise was starting to fade although he still looked like a rainbow had thrown up on his face), and the shrink he had to see had also cleared him to return to work. He had occasional dreams about Randall, but that was to be expected after what had happened. Still, he shook away those thoughts. Tony had already called and threatened to make him regret coming back early. He smiled. He was going back to work!

"You're late, McGee!" Gibbs barked as Tim walked in. Tony and Ziva smiled wordlessly in welcome; neither had a chance to do more.

"Sorry, boss!"

"Let's move!" Gibbs grabbed his gear and Ziva and Tony followed suit.

Tim quickly deposited his backpack and ran for the elevator.

The scene was a soccer field. A man in dress whites was splayed out in the center.

"McGee, photos. DiNozzo, David canvas the area."

"Right boss." Tony and Ziva moved off.

"Oh, and McGee?" Gibbs said almost as an afterthought.

"Yes, boss?"

"Welcome back."

Tim paused in the midst of getting out the camera. He grinned. "Thanks, boss." He was back.


End file.
